


The Great Pottermore Crisis of 2015

by rubychan05



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Harry Potter References, International Fanworks Day 2016, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 19:52:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6022660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubychan05/pseuds/rubychan05
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is not coping well with his House change. </p><p>
  <i>Enjolras was having a crisis. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Not just any crisis. It wasn't one of those oh-no-where-did-I-put-my-house-keys kinds of crisis. Nor was it anywhere near as mundane as his usual why-did-I-let-Courfeyrac-persuade-me-to-do-this type of crisis, something that occurred with disturbing frequency. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>No. This was an earth-shattering, identity-changing, soul-crushing crisis.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Great Pottermore Crisis of 2015

Enjolras was having a crisis.

Not just any crisis. It wasn't one of those _oh-no-where-did-I-put-my-house-keys_ kinds of crisis. Nor was it anywhere near as mundane as his usual _why-did-I-let-Courfeyrac-persuade-me-to-do-this_ type of crisis, something that occurred with disturbing frequency.

No. This was an earth-shattering, identity-changing, soul-crushing crisis.

"It's a House, Enjolras."

This was a crisis that changed _everything_.

"For a fictional school."

His whole sense of self was shattered. Who was he? What lie had he been living for the past four years?

"It doesn't mean anything. Not really."

Enjolras whirled on Combeferre, mouth opening and shutting uselessly as he struggled to find the words to express his outrage. Combeferre just looked amused.

"Doesn't...doesn't mean anything?" He finally spluttered, jabbing a finger into Combeferre's chest. " _Doesn't mean anything_? Don't you realise how big this is?"

"Apparently not."

"Four years, Combeferre. _Four years_!"

"Yes, you did mention that. A few times."

"Four years I've been going round thinking I was a Gryffindor. My mug has a lion on it. Courf bought me themed pyjamas last year. And now I'm suddenly a Slytherin!"

"I wouldn't have expected you to buy into the whole 'House of evil' idea." Combeferre said mildly. Enjolras threw up his hands, expression anguished.

"I don't! But it's the _principle_ of the thing! I've spent four years rooting for Gryffindor in the House Cup. Four years thinking the Slytherin House were my rivals. And now it turns out I've been betraying my real House the whole time! I've been a snake in the grass!"

"Oddly appropriate, considering."

Enjolras glared at Combeferre. If it had been anybody else, that piercing gaze would have had them sweating and running for cover. Combeferre just smiled back.

"I can't talk to you like this. If you're not going to take this seriously..."

"Oh, I assure, I'm taking this _very_ Sirius-ly."

Enjolras let out an incoherent squawk of rage, storming into his room. Combeferre winced at the slamming of the door, taking off his glasses and rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

"Possibly not the best time for puns."

* * *

Curled up in a ball on his bed, Hogwarts blanket draped comfortingly across him, Enjolras quietly admitted to himself that it was possible he was overreacting. Just a little.

But the thing was, he'd been a fan of the books for years. He hadn't discovered them until the second book was already out, but he'd been instantly hooked. Tiny Enjolras had instantly pre-ordered a copy of _Prisoner of Azkaban_ through the school book club and later insisted on getting his _Harry Potter_ books at the midnight releases after learning of their existence.

He'd read the books over and over, until the spines were cracked and some of the pages getting loose. He'd even bought a new set to take to university with him, afraid that the move would be too much for his precious originals.

When Pottermore had first been announced, Enjolras had been one of the millions checking back constantly for news. He'd taken part in the Magical Quill Challenge for early entry, suffered through the indignity of having the username IceVine46 forced upon him. August, and his official entry into the Pottermore site had been confirmed; a few clicks later and he finally had the answer he'd been waiting for most of his life.

He was a Gryffindor. It said so on his profile, clear as day. Never mind the online quizzes which kept giving him different answers, this was _official_.

Enjolras hadn't looked back.

And now he was meant to just accept the fact he'd been resorted into the House of his biggest rivals? _Slytherin_. He'd spent most of his life hating them. And while he was old enough now to understand about stereotyping and generalisations, he couldn't quite silence the voice reminding him that he'd been shifted from the House everyone wanted to be in to the House created just to be the bad guys.

Ever since he was a child, he'd felt like a Gryffindor. He'd spent years, even before the Pottermore Sorting, secretly smiling whenever he was gifted with something red or gold. He'd loudly proclaimed that lions were his favourite animal and tried his best to be brave and good. Pottermore had just confirmed what he'd always known.

And now it turned out to all be a lie.

Groaning, Enjolras pulled the blanket over his head.

* * *

After that, _Harry Potter_ seemed to lose its charm.

Combeferre had tried to pacify him by pointing out that the original Sorting had most likely been done to make the House Cup fairer – it was statistically improbable, after all, that the millions of users would have been split evenly into the four Houses. Enjolras' first House, he reasoned, would have most likely been a lie. So his new one was actually his real House. He'd been a Slytherin, wrongfully Sorted all along.

It hadn't helped. If anything, it had just reminded Enjolras that his favourite series was actually more of a money-grubbing franchise these days and that the messages of the books had been lost to a torrential downpour of merchandise and sequels; something that he himself had managed to get swept away by.

It was tradition by now that he re-read the _Harry Potter_ books every year for his birthday. Sometimes, if the mood took him, he'd follow this up with a marathon of the films, though this often meant subjecting Combeferre to a rant about the inaccuracies of films based on books and why cinema couldn't be trusted not to put style over substance.

This year, Enjolras looked at the books on his shelf and took down a textbook instead.

* * *

If Enjolras had hoped to avoid further fallout from the newly reopened Pottermore site, he would have perhaps been better off cancelling the meeting. But he'd been so caught up in his discovery that the university had bowed to pressure and cancelled its installation of a gender neutral bathroom that he'd forgotten that most of the Amis were also _Harry Potter_ fans.

As soon as the meeting was adjourned, conversation turned to the chaos unleashed by the new Sorting quiz.

Bahorel, a newly Sorted Slytherin and first time Pottermore-user, didn't quite understand the fits of angst that were occurring.

"What does it matter if you've switched group? Isn't it meant to be more accurate now? A House is a House – you'll get used to it."

"Easy for you to say! You're been a Slytherin for all of a day." Courfeyrac protested. "Some of us have spent years believing we're Hufflepuffs only to be told that, wait a minute, you're actually a Ravenclaw! I don't have it in me to be that studious. Do you think I somehow got Combeferre's result?"

"I quite like it. I never liked being a Slytherin. Their common room looks out into the lake! Can you imagine just looking up and seeing the giant squid glide by?" Bossuet shuddered. "I much prefer being in Hufflepuff. _Their_ rooms are next to the kitchen."

"I don't know. I just always felt like a Ravenclaw, you know?" Joly mused. "I don't think I'm fit enough to go adventuring like a Gryffindor."

"Do you need to go on adventures in Gryffindor? Neville didn't, and Dumbledore was always going on about how wonderful he was. Oi! Enjolras! You're a Gryffindor. What do you think?" Bossuet called across the room.

Enjolras shrugged, not looking up from where he was gathering his papers together.

"I'm a Slytherin now. And what does it matter? It's a children's book. We have bigger things to worry about."

Silence fell. Enjolras glanced up, mildly taken aback to see the entire group staring at him.

"But you're the biggest fan there is!" Courfeyrac burst out. "You read them every year!"

"A habit."

"Your room's full of merchandise!"

"I've been meaning to have a clear out."

"You cosplayed as Professor McGonagall for Halloween!"

"Please don't remind me. The photos are bad enough."

Courfeyrac sank down into his chair, visibly upset. In the corner, Jehan began furiously writing an ode to lost childhood.

For a moment, no one seemed to know what to say. One of the first things anyone who met Enjolras learned was that he was a massive _Harry Potter_ nerd. Having Enjolras refute this fact felt a bit like skiing down Mount Everest only to realise that not only have you forgotten your poles, you've also forgotten your skis. And that Mount Everest isn't really suitable for skiing in the first place.

"What's the big deal? It's just a book, isn't it? If he wants to stop reading it, let him stop reading it."

Heads swivelled to where Grantaire, who had so far stayed rather uncharacteristically quiet, was unsteadily getting to his feet.

"But it's _not_ just that..." Bossuet tried. Grantaire shrugged, stretching.

"Whatever. If he doesn't want to keep reading about hobbits and talking lions, that's his business."

There was a moment where nobody moved.

"What?!" burst out Bahorel.

"Grantaire? Do you mean...you _have_ read the books, haven't you?" Joly tried, tentatively. Grantaire snorted.

"Nah. My mum tried to force them on me when I was a kid, but I found them pretty boring. Couldn't get past the first chapter."

The sudden clamour of outrage that followed drowned out whatever Grantaire was going to say next, and Enjolras was forgotten.

* * *

Needless to say, the last person he expected to find at his door the next day was Grantaire. And he certainly would never have imagined Grantaire's request.

" _You_ want to borrow the books?" Enjolras said sceptically, staring the other man down. Grantaire shrugged, limbs loose and relaxed.

"It seemed like a big thing when I told everyone I hadn't read them."

"Why not get them from a library?"

"Too much effort."

"Or one of the others?"

"They're all re-reading them in a fit of pique. I think I heard Jehan whispering love poems to his copy. So I thought to myself, hey! Enjolras doesn't want to read his anymore. He won't mind if I borrow them."

Enjolras tried frantically to come up with some reason why Grantaire couldn't borrow his copies – he'd seen how the other treated his books – and to his dismay found himself stuck. He'd proclaimed his newfound distaste for the books loud and clear last night, and he couldn't see a way out without admitting that he didn't want Grantaire's beer-sticky hands touching any of his things.

"Fine. But one book at a time." He said through gritted teeth, retrieving his copy of _The Philosopher's Stone_ and shoving it at Grantaire. "And they'd better come back to me in the same condition they left."

Grantaire grinned, shooting Enjolras a cheeky two-finger salute as he left. Enjolras sighed, reconciling himself to the knowledge that he would likely never see his book again.

* * *

If he hadn't expected to see Grantaire at his door the day after the meeting, he never in his wildest dreams would have imagined seeing him there again the morning after that.

"Giving up already? Too many words for you?" He mocked lightly, seeing that Grantaire was brandishing the book he'd borrowed. Grantaire rolled his eyes, seemingly unaffected by Enjolras' show of wit.

"Nice. Calling the art student stupid. And to think people call you the progressive one. Nah, I'm done. Can I borrow the second one?"

Enjolras blinked, momentarily taken aback.

"You finished it? Already?"

"It's not that long a read."

"It would have still taken a few hours."

"I had nothing else to do."

Shrugging, Enjolras took the book and turned to retrieve _Chamber_.

"Besides," Grantaire continue. "It was refreshing to see a book all about the dangers of privilege."

"Ah. Malfoy?"

"Nope. Harry."

Enjolras whipped around, staring at Grantaire.

"I'm sorry?"

"Come on, you must have seen it. The only reason he's the hero is because of all the privilege he has. He has money. He's famous. McGonagall gives him his own broomstick, when he shouldn't even be playing in the first place. He was even given his own invisibility cloak! No wonder he's the hero – _I_ could be the hero, with all that stuff."

Enjolras goggled at him. "But that's not the point! The point is..."

"What? That we should worship those with money? Ron was just as brave as Harry, and he was the sidekick."

"No! I mean, _yes_ , Ron was very brave, but the idea of Harry being a hero just because of all that is...I mean, that's why we meet Malfoy so early. To see what Harry could have been like if he had grown up with all that privilege. The reason he's the hero is because he didn't turn out like that."

"Well, not like he had the chance to, since he didn't even know about the money. I bet he'd have been even worse if he'd grown up knowing he was famous and rich."

"Maybe, but the thing is...oh for heaven's sake, come in so we can talk about this."

* * *

Every time Enjolras let Grantaire borrow a book, he'd return it with the most ludicrous interpretation of its characters and morals. Even though Enjolras had turned his back on the series, it still grated on him that someone could misread a book so badly; every time Grantaire turned up, he found himself almost forcibly escorting him inside for tea and re-education.

_"Ginny just set feminism back sixty years."_

_"Lupin's ridiculous. He's so scared of the real world that he has to go back to school? Pathetic."_

(Enjolras had barely resisted the urge to hit Grantaire that day. He'd soothed himself with the knowledge that even an idiot like Grantaire would pick up on the werewolf prejudice in later books and realise Remus was out of options.)

_"Convenient, that Harry managed to get rid of his love rival like that."_

_"Thank god. I thought we'd never get rid of Sirius. Pointless character or what?"_

_"Ugh, the whole  death of the mentor trope. Couldn't Rowling have been more original?"_

_"God, Lupin really is pathetic. He just wants to swan off and leave behind all that responsibility, go back to living the single life."_

(Enjolras really had hit him that time, attempting to smother Grantaire with a cushion. Grantaire had just laughed hysterically, resorting to tickling Enjolras in order to escape.)

Perhaps the worst insult of all, however, was that Grantaire's reaction upon learning there was a film series was to complain that he wouldn't have read the books if he'd known.

_"I mean, god! Think of how many hours I'd have saved. Not to mention the whole cinema-is-better-than-books thing. I mean, what's the point of imagining characters and settings for yourself when it's right there for you on film?"_

Which, of course, led to Enjolras insisting that Grantaire stay for dinner and the first film. Afterwards, when Grantaire stood by his opinion, Enjolras made him watch it all over again, pausing it repeatedly to point out all the things it had left out or got wrong.

Somehow, it turned into a routine. Every night, Grantaire would turn up with take-out and a case of beer and they'd settle down to watch the next _Harry Potter_ film.

(The take-out was devoured without mercy. The beers usually left Enjolras' flat untouched.)

It wasn't until the credits were rolling on the second viewing of the eighth film, Grantaire a warm weight against his left side, that Enjolras realised with a start that he'd spent a good chunk of the last fifteen days with Grantaire. They hadn't even argued outside of the context of _Harry Potter_. And even then their arguments had been more like actual debates rather than the vicious, hurtful fights they got into at the Musain.

Enjolras hadn't even known he could talk to Grantaire without one of them drawing metaphorical blood.

It had been...nice.

He wondered what would happen now it was all over. They'd read the books. They'd watched the films. Where did they go from here? Would they just go back to pretending this never happened? Act as if they'd never curled up on a sofa together and debated the merits of sound effects over language when it came to building tension? Go back to tearing strips off each other and pretending it didn't hurt, that they didn't see the disappointed expressions on their friends' faces?

Grantaire stirred beside him and Enjolras swallowed down his sudden doubt.

"So? Final verdict?" He asked.

Grantaire paused, eyes on the ceiling as he considered his response. Eventually he gave a shrug and settled back more comfortably against the sofa.

"I still don't see what's so wonderful about them." He admitted. "If I wanted to read about class snobbery and boarding school, I'd pick up some Enid Blyton. At least the films made the stories seem mildly exciting. At the end of the day, they're just stories for kids."

Enjolras stared at him in disbelief.

Two weeks. Two weeks of debate, of Enjolras explaining everything that was magical about the books, everything that had first drawn him to the series, and Grantaire couldn't even see why other people may be interested in them? Enjolras had taken him through every scene, every character, every magical invention that had ever caught his imagination, and yet Grantaire stubbornly refused to see anything good in the books.

Enjolras saw red.

"How can you be so obsessed with Greek literature, and heroes, and tragedies, and the downfall of men, and still not find anything of merit in the books?" He ranted. " _Harry Potter_ may have been written for children, but that doesn't mean we should dismiss the imagination that went into creating that world, or the messages within it.

"Think about how many children will pick that series up, thinking it's just about magic and wizards, only to learn to judge people for more than their appearance, to look beyond what other people think. How many people have read those books and grown up knowing that it's their responsibility to stand up against evil, to face down those who would glorify injustice and prevent people from living their lives?

" _Harry Potter_ is more than a children's book. It's a series of beautiful, meaningful stories that really explore humanity and allow people an escape from reality. Yes, the series has its flaws, but what series doesn't? That doesn't mean...why are you laughing?"

Enjolras paused, staring as Grantaire doubled over on the sofa, shoulders shaking with uncontrollable mirth. Three times, the other man tried to stop and say something, only to descend back into giggles as soon as he glanced at Enjolras' rather poleaxed face.

"I'm sorry." He eventually got out, lying on the floor where he had rolled after his fourth attempt at speaking. "It's just... _I know_. I've been a fan for years. My mum got me the first book for my birthday and I've been hooked ever since."

He yanked his shirt up, showing off the small black and yellow crest just visible on his hip.

"Hufflepuff and proud, baby. Thank god Pottermore kept me in the same House, or that could have been awkward."

Enjolras swallowed, a hot wave of betrayal sweeping through him.

"So what? You thought it would make a good joke? Thought it would be funny to trick me into lecturing you on the series, into telling you everything it meant to..."

"Whoa!" Grantaire bolted upright, eyes wide. "No! Nonononono! That's not it at all."

He climbed back onto the sofa, grabbing Enjolras by the arm and staring at him pleadingly. Enjolras looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

"What then? Revenge? I know we've exchanged words in the past, but even I would never have thought you such a petty man."

"No! Jeez, is that what you think of me?" Grantaire sounded upset now. "I just...you were always the biggest fan of all of us. Do you even realise how many conversations you managed to fit _Harry Potter_ into? I'll tell you: nearly all of them. So when you got upset over the new Pottermore Sorting, I just...I wanted to remind you of why you fell in love with the series in the first place. That's all."

Oh.

It made sense now, how Grantaire had managed to misread all the books so badly. He'd done it _on purpose_. He'd actually gone home, come up with as many ideas as he could think of that would infuriate Enjolras, and returned with as many pointless arguments as he could. Just to make Enjolras defend the books and remember why he liked them.

He thought about what might have happened if Grantaire hadn't stepped in. Thought about ignoring the books until they grew thick with dust, perhaps even giving them away to make room for more textbooks. Thought about boxing up his merchandise to 'make room', only to never take it out again, even when he had his own house.

Thought about going through life without that sense of hope that _Harry Potter_ had always given him.

"Thank you." He said hoarsely, cupping Grantaire's face in his hands. " _Thank you_."

He wasn't entirely sure how they ended up kissing – he had a sneaking suspicion that it was him who had first leaned in – but couldn't find it in himself to regret it, not when he suddenly had a lapful of very enthusiastic Grantaire.

A thought occurred to him and he pulled back, ignoring Grantaire's protesting whimper.

"Just checking..." He panted, eyes narrowed. "You don't _really_ prefer the films, do you?"

Grantaire froze, eyes wide. Enjolras felt a dawning sense of horror begin to crash over him.

Grantaire grinned.

"Nah." He winked. "Only thing those films did right was give Tonks and Lupin that bit more of a death scene."

Enjolras sighed in relief, leaning in again.

"Oh? I thought Lupin was 'pathetic'?" He teased. Grantaire huffed against his mouth.

"Are you kidding? Lupin's the best character."

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to the waves of rage that swept the internet after Pottermore re-opened. A lot of this is based on my own experience of Harry Potter and Pottermore (including that forced username!), so this was definitely a nostalgia trip for me!


End file.
